He got bad and she got mad

He lowered one more time and she got even

No one heard a single word

but as the clock ticked from next door I hear her breathing

I said "Good morning Mrs. Sumner, I would like you to meet my friend Mr. Boney, he's a house made out fo butterflies, yeah.

Well I can't sleep sometimes but I've been told

It's a lonely condition called growing old.

Let me stumble sometimes...



I'm looking for a soul to cling to, yeah...

So what you think about that?

This time, well it all comes down

to loss and strain and butterflies,

and then it comes right down to me.



Hello, have you been alright?

Did you find a piece of something